Role Reversal
by Moonlit Seductress
Summary: Was she crazy to turn him down, all those years ago? Or was she merely waiting? Waiting to show him who had the power.


**Disclaimer: **Labyrinth and all characters from said film belong to Jim Henson and George Lucas, those geniuses. I own nothing (nothing, nothing, tra la la) but the plot.

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**Role Reversal**  
By: Moonlit Seductress

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"What would you say, Doctor, if I were to tell you that I could have been a queen?"

He arched his eyebrows over the rims of his glasses, sitting up a fraction straighter and dashing off a few notes, never once taking his eyes off her. She had never seen anyone who could write without looking at the paper. "Is that so?" 

"Mmm," she hummed, closing her eyes and smiling slightly. She hadn't told him this part before. "But I turned him down."

"And why is that?"

She opened her eyes, staring through him into the past. "The offer required me to relinquish something I couldn't give up."

"Your brother," he nodded, familiar with this section of the conversation. Her dreams in exchange for her stepbrother. Her answer made him drop his notes.

"No, my power."

He stared as she continued. "He wanted to rule me. He said he would have been my slave, but I knew the truth. He had no power over me, but I have power over him. I couldn't let him have it by submitting to him."

She smiled, but it made the poor doctor shiver. "I had him in the palm of my hand all along. I still do. Wait and see, Doctor. The one who calls on him always holds the reins. He can do nothing but come when summoned, like a dog called by its master."

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He stood in a corner of the room. The moonlight fell in slats over him, filtering through the barred window. His face was shrouded in shadow, but there was no doubt in her mind. Three years and her change of address had not changed him.

She smirked at him. His voice, as cool as ice and as rich as velvet, as dark as night and as intoxicating as wine, poured into her ears like molten gold, somehow more seductive than she recalled. 

"Good evening, Sarah."

"They think I'm crazy," she replied, rising from the bed and crossing the tiny room to where he waited, dual coloured eyes tracking her movements like a tiger watches its prey.

"Do they?" The comment held nothing – amusement, satisfaction, or surprise. He merely said it.

"They do." She stopped inches from him, standing with her feet apart and her hands clasped at her chest, looking up at him. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

He chuckled darkly. "I think you are many things, Sarah, but mentally unstable is not one of them."

"I don't know what they think is crazier. That I think I could have been a queen…" She paused, raising her hands to lightly drag her nails across his chest, toying with the folds of his shirt. "Or that I refused the offer."

He said nothing, did nothing to stop the delicate fingers that slipped below his collar to skim across bare skin. "Maybe I was crazy," she commented. "Crazy to turn down my dreams, crazy to turn down you." In one fluid movement, she had both shrugged in resignation and undone three buttons, exposing pale flesh to the moonlight.

He continued to watch her, but his breathing was growing faster. There was certainly something different about her. Madness or not, he didn't particularly care. Nor did he care that he had come to rebuke her for those foolish things she told that doctor. That he had come to show her how very wrong she was. That he had come to seduce _her_ – not the other way around. She leaned closer and her lips brushed against his collarbone.

"It's too late now, I suppose." She was still talking, even as she slid his shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. "And now they all think I'm crazy. Just because I talk to the empty air. " She scored her nails down his back, pressing hard enough to make him shiver. "Just because I keep drawing owls with different coloured eyes." Her hands traveled over his waist to the laces that closed his breeches. "Just because I speak of a world they can't see, a king they don't believe in." The laces untied under her deft fingers.

His hands clamped down over hers, dragging them away. "Say the words." His words were harsh and rushed, muttered into the silence. Her eyes glittered up at him. It seemed her words to the doctor had been exactly right – she still held him, just as it had always been. "I wish…"

She trailed off, purposefully, watching calmly as his eyes narrowed. "_Say it._" The vehemence that leaked into his voice made her smirk again.

"I wish the goblins would take me away – " her hands jerked free of his and she took hold of him, hard and ready through the heavy cloth of his breeches. She twisted, ever so slightly, and was rewarded with the faintest whimper.

"Right now."

The moonlight fell in slats over the empty room, filtering through the barred window.

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The End

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End file.
